When the Story of Our Lives Began
by TexanRose
Summary: As their daughter grows up, Aria and Ezra must decide what to tell her about how they met...and fell in love.


**Here's something I came up with. I thought it was cute. There is no Maggie/Malcolm. For those of you who are following my other story, The Girl Next Door, I'm working on it, but I wanted to share this. I do not own PLL. Please Review!**

* * *

Aria laid the book on the nightstand and smiled at the sight in front of her eyes. Slowly she got up from the chair next to the bed, wincing as the floors beneath her creaked with her weight. She paused a moment to make sure she hadn't bothered the sleeping figure and then began to cautiously tiptoe out of the lavender and white room.

"Mommy?" asked the child sleepily.

"Yes, sweetie?" Aria answered, turning back to her daughter.

"Tell me another story," pleaded the girl, smothering a yawn.

Aria half-smiled. "What story would you like to hear?" She walked back to her chair as her daughter considered the question.

Aria's daughter looked at her through half-closed eyes. "Tell me about you and Daddy," she decided.

"What about me and Daddy?" asked Aria.

"How did you fall in love?" asked the girl. "Uncle Mike said I should ask you."

Aria sighed. "I need to tell Uncle Mike that you're too young for that sort of thing."

"For what Mommy?" murmured the child. She snuggled deeper in her blankets. She looked peaceful and content.

Aria took a moment to think about it and then began, "Once upon a time there was a princess named Mommy. She was feeling lonely and sad. Then, she met a prince named Daddy except she didn't know he was a prince."

"Why not, Mommy?" questioned the girl.

"What have I told you about interrupting?" Aria admonished.

"Sorry," said the child, too tired to be truly regretful.

"So Princess Mommy didn't know Daddy was a prince, but she kissed and she found out she loved him. And when the evil Queen A tried to tear them apart, he fell in love with Princess Mommy and showed him what kind of a prince he was." Aria looked down at her sleeping daughter. "And they lived happily ever after," she finished softly.

Getting back up from the chair, Aria leaned over the bed and pushed back the hair that was so much like hers, and kissed her daughters forehead. "Good night, beautiful," she whispered. Walking out of the room, Aria made sure the soft glow of the nightlight remained on before closing the bedroom door.

Walking into the living, Aria saw her husband on the couch, reading. "We need to get after Mike next time we see him," she said, sitting down next to him.

"Why?" her husband asked, putting the book down on the coffee table.

"He's putting ideas into our daughter's head," Aria scowled. "Next time you get story time duty."

Her husband shifted until his wife was leaning against his chest. He kissed the top of her head. "I love story time. You're the one who made it into a tradition, remember?"

Aria half-smiled. "I remember."

"She's be the only kid in her kindergarten class who has Wordsworth read to her on a nightly basis."

"And that's a bad thing?" she asked, snuggling closer.

"I never said that," he protested.

"We'll she is our kid," said Aria. "I guess she didn't stand much of a chance."

"Hardly," chuckled her husband. "Besides, you're the one who wanted to name her after Jane Austen."

"Well, you're the one who wanted to name her after Gertrude Stein," Aria shot back.

"I'm glad we decided on Violet," he said. "A nice, simple, non-literary name."

"And it matches her room," Aria threw in.

"What kind of story did she ask for tonight?"

"We started off with Tennyson," admitted Aria, "But then she wanted to know how Mommy and Daddy fell in love. Mike put her up to it," she explained.

"So that explains it," he nodded his head. "What did you tell her?"

"A fairytale," answered Aria. "Something for her to have pleasant dreams with."

"And when she asks that question for real?" asked her husband.

"What question?" asked Aria. She stifled a yawn.

"How her parents met." He raised an eyebrow, expecting a response.

"When she's old enough, we'll tell her the truth," said Aria simply. She leaned her head against his heart, listening to its rhythmic beating. "Mom and Dad met in a bar."

"And the rest of the story?" asked her husband. "We can't hide it forever."

"What 'rest of the story?'" responded Aria. "We met. We dated. We fell in love."

"That isn't the complete truth."

"It's all she needs to know," answered Aria. "New York is not Rosewood."

"We'll see," he responded. He watched as she got up from the sofa and headed down the hallway into the bedroom.

"Coming?" she asked.

"In a few," he answered, picking up his book. "I need to get this read by tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes. "You wrote the thing. Surely you know what it's about."

"But this is my last time to look it over before it goes to print," he protested.

"I'm going to bed," she said finally. "Are you going to join me?" She watched as his eyes flickered between her and his book. She let out a laugh at his indecision. "I love you Ezra Fitz. I'll see you in the morning." She began to walk towards their bedroom.

"I love you too," he said, looking back towards his book. "I always have."

* * *

"Please set the table for dinner, Violet," Aria asked her daughter, who was doing her homework on the very table she had just been asked to set.

"Okay, just let me finish this problem," said Violet, intently focusing on her homework. Finishing, she snapped her book shut and took it off the table.

"How's Algebra I going?" asked Aria, taking spices out of the cabinet.

"Alright I guess," sighed Violet. "I think it shows that I'm your kid," she said ruefully, getting the plates from the cupboard. "I like English better than my math classes."

"You're definitely our kid," said Aria as she watched her daughter place the plates on the table. "How's the rest of eighth grade?" Aria stirred the pot before closing it and then handed her daughter the necessary silverware.

Violet shrugged. "It's eighth grade. I can't wait until I'm in high school next year." She placed the glasses where they were supposed to go and then went back into the cooking area for silverware.

"What's so great about high school?" asked Aria, putting the food on the table.

"It means you're grown up," announced Violet happily. She shut the drawer and headed back towards the table. Aria looked at her daughter for a moment, before getting the jug of lemonade off the counter.

"Don't grow up too fast," she warned softly, pouring lemonade in the glasses.  
Violet wrinkled her nose. "You sound like Grandma."

"Do I? I was a pain to her in high school. I think she thought I grew up too fast," said Aria thoughtfully. Violet stared at her moment. "Go get your dad for dinner," Aria ordered, changing the subject. "We need to eat before it gets cold." Violet obeyed, scampering off towards Ezra's study where he was surely working on his new book.

The Fitz family was nearly done with dinner when Violet brought up high school again. "What were you like in high school, Dad?" she asked. She took a bite of her pasta and chewed while she waited for him to answer.

"What brought that question on?" Ezra asked his daughter. He sipped his lemonade.

"Mom said she was a pain to Grandma while she was in high school," answered Violet shrugged. "I just wanted to know if you were the same way."

Ezra looked Aria. She met his gaze with a thoughtful one of her own. "I think your mom was more of a pain to your Grandpa than to your Grandma," he answered.

"Really?" asked Violet. "But Grandpa's so laid back."

Aria snorted. "Not when I was your age," she answered, putting a bite of pasta in her mouth.

"Why?" asked Violet, persistently. She watched as her parents shared a look. She knew that look. It was the one that asked Do you want to tell her or should I? Her father lost.

"I met your mom when she was in high school," answered Ezra vaguely. "Your grandfather didn't like me very much when he found out."

"Mhhh," answered Violet as she chewed the last bite of her food. True to her word, Violet wasn't good at math or she would have remembered that her dad was seven years older than her mom.

"Don't you have a new book you want to read?" cut in Aria, diverting Violet's attention. "Didn't your Aunt Spencer give you one when she visited yesterday?"

"Yup," answered Violet happily. "_To Kill a Mockingbird_."

"Why don't you go read it then," suggested Aria. "Dad and I will clean up."

"Really?" asked Violet excitedly.

"Really," answered Ezra. "Mom and I will clean up tonight."

"Okay," said Violet, scrambling out of her chair.

Aria watched her disappear into the living room. "She's her father's daughter."

Ezra pointed a finger at himself. "Me? No," he shook his head. "She's her mother's."

Aria got up from the table, taking her dirty plate to the sink. "That was close," she sighed. She turned the faucet on and rinsed her plate.

"It was," said Ezra behind her. He put his arms around her waist. Aria smiled and leaned back into him, turning off the faucet in the process. "What are we going to tell her when the time comes?" He felt his wife tense in his arms.

"That her parents love each other very much," responded Aria. "Only the good things." She left his arms and went back to the table to finish clearing up the dishes.

"And when she asks about the bad?" questioned Ezra. "We can't bribe her with books forever."

Aria's shoulders slumped in defeat as she leaned over the table. "I don't know."

"Hey," he said, coming to her. "We don't have to worry about this today."

"What about tomorrow?" she asked, biting her lip.

"We'll worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes," answered Ezra, holding his wife in his arms. "This is where you were always meant to be," he said.

Aria rested her chin on his chest and looked at him. "And where's that?"

"With me," he replied. "In my arms." She hugged him tighter.

"Let's hope Violet feels that way."

"She will," answered Ezra confidently. "She's our daughter."

"She is," smiled Aria.

* * *

"Why won't you tell me?" asked Violet. She sat across from her parents in the living room, her arms crossed over her chest defensively. "I'm eighteen years old. I deserve to know how my parents met."

"It isn't that simple," answered Ezra. He looked over to his wife.

"Did Grandma and Grandpa put you up to it?" asked Aria. "I know you've been talking to them lately."

"It wasn't Grandma or Grandpa," let out Violet in irritation. "Sara was telling me how Aunt Hanna and Uncle Caleb met, and I thought I should know how my parents met too." Violet let out a huff. "I thought it would be a simple, cheesy story."

"We'll it's not," responded Aria shortly. "Are you sure you still want to hear it?"

"I want to hear it more than ever now," exclaimed Violet.

"Dad and I met in a bar," responded Aria. "The end."

"Aria," Ezra admonished. He looked at his daughter. "Your mother's afraid you won't like us when you find out."

"I know you met in high school," persisted Violet. "Let's start there."

Ezra sighed and looked at his wife. She was defiantly closed mouth. "Well," he began, "your mother's right. We did meet in a bar." He swallowed. "But you're right too; we met when we were both a Rosewood High." He gave Violet a moment to understand the implication of his words.

"But you're seven years older than Mom," she realized. "How were you in high school at the same time?"

"Your Mom and I met before her first day of eleventh grade. At a bar. I thought she was in college. I also thought she was smart, funny, beautiful. I guess she liked me too."

"I thought you were interesting," Aria threw in.

Ezra looked at her and turned back to his daughter. "Anyway, we ended up making out in the bathroom of the bar."

"Dad," broke in Violet. "_Too_ much information."

"I thought you wanted to know the story," he answered. "Anyway, I thought your mom was amazing. I started my first teaching job the next day," Ezra paused, "at Rosewood High," he finished.

Realization dawned in Violet's eyes. "Mom was your student," she concluded. She watched her parents carefully. Aria held her ground, but Ezra shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

"And?" she prompted.

"And we fell in love," Aria finished.

"And everything in between?" asked Violet. "No wonder Grandma complains about you in high school. What would you do if I were dating my teacher?"

"Flip," answered Ezra honestly.

"Your father and I had a hard time for a while there," said Aria reluctantly. "But we loved each other then as much as we do now, and we were determined to make it work,"

"But Dad was your teacher."

"Only for a little while," answered Aria. "Eventually he got a job with Grandpa at Hollis and he wasn't my teacher anymore."

"When did Grandma and Grandpa find out?" Violet asked finally. "About you guys being together?"

"Maybe that's a story for another day," Ezra suggested.

"Aren't you going to tell me?" pleaded Violet. She turned to her mother.

"Your dad told Grandma and Grandpa about us after he had been at Hollis for a while. They did not take it well," said Aria.

"But Grandma and Grandpa love Dad," exclaimed Violet.

"Now," responded Ezra dryly. "I think by the time your Mom graduated and I followed to her to New York, they knew I was here to stay."

"Is that the whole story?" asked Violet. She stared at her parents intently.

"That's the whole story," confirmed Ezra.

"Are you upset?" asked Aria carefully.

"About what, Mom?" asked Violet.

"That your dad dated a student."

"But the student was _you_," replied Violet. "You've been married for twenty-five years."

"So you're okay with everything?" asked Ezra tentatively.

Violet nodded. "I'm just glad I know the story. I wish you guys hadn't kept it from me."

"We were trying to protect you," said Aria softly. "We didn't want you to think that we had done anything wrong. Or that you," she continued, "were a mistake."

"I love you guys," responded Violet. "I just wanted to know the story." She got up from the loveseat and gave each of her parents a hug. "You could never really do anything to make me hate you." Aria and Ezra watched as their daughter walked down the hall and into her bedroom.

Ezra leaned back into the cushions. "That went well."

"You think so?" asked Aria, snuggling up next to him.

"Yes, I do," he answered.

"I told you it would go well," she said.

He snorted. "You told me? I think I told you."

"She's definitely our daughter," said Aria. "If we didn't know it before, we sure know it now."

"She's just like her mother," said Ezra, wrapping his arms around his wife. "She won't take no for answer."

"I think she's like her father," Aria returned. "She doesn't give anyone the opportunity to say no. She charms the pants right off them."

"Are you calling me charming?" he teased.

Aria looked up to meet his eyes. "Well, aren't you my prince?" she asked. Ezra leaned down to kiss her in response.

In the background of their apartment that decorated with warm greens and browns, the New York City skyline rested outside their window. The view of Central Park showed the leaves as they glittered in the summer sunlight. And inside the apartment where they had raised their daughter, a man and a woman bound by love, matrimony, and family, remembered the day when a princess met her prince and the story of their lives began.


End file.
